


Turn it Off

by SubwayWolf



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Anal Fingering, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Jack, Cock Rings, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Erectile Dysfunction, Feminization, Implied Rhys/Vaughn - Freeform, Interrupted Foreplay, M/M, Prostate Massage, Prostate Stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evening starts off hot and heavy, until Jack forgets to complete a very important part of the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn it Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gibilynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gibilynx/gifts).



> Alright. So. This was supposed to be a holiday-based thing and now my time is up. I was almost flatlining working to get this out. I started writing it on December 23rd but I guess that doesn't matter because I'M SO LATE. I don't know why I ran out of steam on it so early but it ended up being so long, it was like trying to run through quicksand. But now that I'm done I actually like how it turned out. So... better late than never I guess. 
> 
> This one's for the kinkmaster [Lynx](http://gibilynx.tumblr.com/) who everyone reading this no doubt knows and loves. This sinner's art has inspired 99% of my sexual exploitation and objectification of Rhys and she also happens to be a great furry friend and REALLY PRETTY AND I LOVE HER. Also, she is gross and i hate her, and also, last but not least, I love her.

The pacing of this evening started off hot and heavy, which was both expected and preferred. Rhys was on the desk in an unbuttoned blue dress shirt and black lace panties, facing towards the window, and Jack was mostly clothed and circling around, just out of reach. This posture and dance they did was not atypical. Rhys knew the routine by now, and Jack wanted it – no, he _needed_ it.

As he moved, Jack kept his eyes on Rhys and lowered his voice, trying with pure, syrupy charisma to get the kid’s head to turn. “You are hot stuff, Rhysie,” he began, deliberately keeping his voice sultry. “A thirsty slut with a sweet little ass, sexy long legs, and a pretty cockpit of a mouth.” He let his fingers trace along the wood of the desk as he circled. “Tell me. What sorts of nasty things do you want me to do to? What can you dream up in your pretty head?”

Of course, this was all posturing. Rhys really didn’t have a say in any of this, and both of them knew it. It entertained Jack to offer false control to Rhys and ultimately render him powerless anyway, but the fact that Rhys caught onto it made it less enjoyable. This probably meant it was time to find a new employee to fuck and torment, but Jack had grown attached to Rhys, for whatever reason.

Rhys was rather quiet when Jack talked at him like this, and Jack of course preferred it this way. Rhys wasn’t half bad at talking dirty right back when the confidence arose in him, but sometimes when he opened his mouth he would ask questions. He’d ask about how many people had been on the desk just like him, or he’d ask about work, or Pandora, or the mask, or the picture on the desk, and all those times Rhys accomplished nothing besides effectively ruining the mood.

It was easy to put a hand around the kid’s neck to discipline him for it or fuck him hard into whatever surface Jack could shove him against, but despite Jack’s attempts to use that as punishment, Rhys still liked it, which made the whole ordeal counter-productive. All in all, it was better when he shut up.

Rhys was nice and quiet now, just sitting there and looking pretty while Jack circled the desk, keeping his pace deliberate as he watched Rhys. The predatory behavior was naturally startling but Rhys had grown accustomed to it – his muscles were relaxed and he sat patiently, seemingly enjoying being observed. 

Jack had cleared the desk off of almost everything but noticed that he’d forgotten the stapler. For half a second he wondered what it’d look like forcing one into Rhys’ pretty white skin and drawing blood and hearing the kid flinch in pain, but he pushed the idea out of his head, just for a second. 

When he reached the front of the desk where Rhys was facing, Jack moved one hand to Rhys’ legs and slid his touch up the side. Jack was still wearing his gloves, so he couldn’t exactly feel, but the degree of separation, however subtle, excited him. “Gimme some ideas, kitten. What do you wanna do?” He moved around again, not even pausing to hear a response. “Do you wanna deep throat my cock in those pretty pink lips of yours? Wanna stick your tongue out, get on your knees, and beg for it? Want me to bend you over my desk and stuff your hole like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

Though his grip on the edge of the desk tightened subtly, Rhys barely flinched. There was a small smirk on his lips as he watched Jack move. Jack’s pace was already agonizingly slow, and, when he passed Rhys’ line of vision, Jack could see how his eyes turned and watched with growing impatience. 

Hook, line, and sinker. Jack pretended not to notice and took his gloves off, tossing them to the side. “Wanna bounce up and down on my dick like a cowgirl while I slap your ass pink? How about I finger you and eat your ass for dinner after you suck on daddy's fingers? Or you can sit on my lap and take my cock balls-deep like a good little bitch.” Jack gestured loosely, shooting off at the mouth, almost caught up in laughter at his own rapid-fire suggestions. “I'll pack a soda can-sized vibrator deep up your hole while I fuck your mouth. How’s that?”

As he continued to avoid Jack’s wandering eyes, Rhys’ cheeks started to flush. He must have been biting his tongue to prevent from talking back, and he did well to keep his body language looking unruffled and confident, but Jack knew better. 

The next time around, Jack stopped pacing when he got to Rhys and instead stood near him, at his side. “What, princess? Too vanilla for you?” He put his hand on Rhys’ back, rubbing slowly as if to comfort him, enjoying the tactility of Rhys’ silk blue shirt on his palm and fingertips. “Do you want to be tied up? Do you want to be gagged? Oh, I have everything. Prostate ticklers. Collars. Blindfolds. Dick rings. This snug little rubber cock-and-ball harness that makes your dick swell up a pretty purple. Just say the word.” The charisma passed through Jack’s grin like a song. “Your wish is my command.” 

They’d been doing this long enough that power displays weren’t necessary because Rhys knew his place. Jack moved his hand up to the nape of Rhys’ neck and fingered through his hair, resisting all urges to grab a fistful and pull his head back just for the thrill of running the chance of snapping a vertebrae. At the touch, Rhys’ muscles tensed. Jack and Rhys had a strict “no hair touching” policy which only Rhys heeded.

Jack caught a glimpse of Rhys’ expression – it was growing increasingly helpless and impatient, just what they both wanted. Jack was still smiling. “Alright. Your little pouty face is making me feel a little bad for you. You poor boy.” Jack released his touch and instead leaned against the desk, looking Rhys in the eyes no matter that Rhys was still stubbornly looking away.” I should go easy on you, start simple. I could strip you down, pull your panties back, then fill up your pink little boy cunt into a dripping cream pie. It’s old school, but I like it. And I think you do, too.”

The subtleties gave Rhys away at first. His posture shifted as his abdomen contracted with discomfort. He fidgeted in his seat and gripped the border of the desk. His legs spread, just slightly, and he turned his head so Jack couldn’t see his face. But Jack only needed to look down to see the half-hard cock stiffening between his legs. 

It was times like these where Jack was reminded why he kept Rhys around – Rhys surprised him. The surprise showed in Jack’s expression in the form of a grin and light laugh. “Whoa, Rhysie, did you get a stiffy from listening to me talk dirty? Aw, kiddo! That is so pathetic!”

As he flushed even warmer, Rhys fidgeted in his seated position and finally grumbled a simple response. “Shut up.”

The evening started off strong. But it was those words that changed the tone, even though Jack refused to let them bother him at first. Rhys was just frustrated, flustered – it’d been a while since they’d been together and Rhys was typically a slut who would whine, grind, and suck his way out of the frustration of a dry spell without much shame.

So at first, Jack didn’t blame him. In fact, he capitalized off of it and tried to anger Rhys even more. Jack folded his arms, looking Rhys in the eyes even though the kid refused to look at him. “I know I'm good, but damn, how sex-starved are you, champ? When was the last time someone besides me touched your cock - or has it been you, tugging away like a sad little whore? Has your friend Vaughn ever gotten on his knees for you? How long's it been, Rhysie?”

The last part seemed to strike a nerve with Rhys, and Jack noticed. It was probably no question that if Rhys’ friend knew about what was happening, he was advising him against it. Truly, Jack would have questioned his sanity if he didn’t, and he seemed like a sane person, relatively. Still, it didn’t particularly sit right with Jack that Rhys could have feelings for someone other than him, especially when the mere notion was insane – how could Rhys care for someone who couldn’t possibly give anything to Rhys that Jack couldn’t outmatch by a tenfold? Nonetheless, levelling the playing field seemed like the best way to go. 

Jack reached out and took Rhys by the chin, turning his head so they were face-to-face. Jack smiled as Rhys still refused to look him in the eyes. “Ooh. Look at those cheeks turn red,” he observed offhandedly. “Are you thinking of your little buddy Vaughn? That handsome little devil can be invited to our party, too! He'll be on all fours right beside you, sweet thing.”

Jack really, genuinely didn’t understand why this would upset Rhys, but it did, because Rhys’ brow furrowed as he looked past Jack and into the distance, probably out the window. “Don’t bring him into this, please.” Sugarcoating it with pleading wasn’t going to work on Jack, but it was a nice courtesy. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t even know about you.”

This actually took Jack by surprise. He released Rhys’ face. “He doesn’t?” Jack questioned with a raised eyebrow. Rhys shook his head; he looked _ashamed_. Jack considered either comforting or exploiting Rhys, and predictably chose the latter. Jack leaned closer and softened his voice just above a whisper. “Do you lie to him about where you go at night?” 

Rhys frowned and gently nodded his head, but didn’t say any more. He slouched in his seat and moved his hands so they were in his lap, covering his stiffening dick. Jack was unsure if this posture was defensive or defenseless.

Mockingly, Jack frowned right back. He did his best impression of a shrink. “How does that make you feel?” He knew the answer but wanted to hear it. 

Rhys closed his eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to force the guilt away. “It makes me feel like shit,” he admitted, whispering back. When he opened his eyes again, Rhys still refused to look at Jack no matter how close Jack was getting to him.

Jack was smiling now. He gestured a shrug as he moved forward. “But you keep doing it. You keep lying, and you keep and coming here.” He moved his hand to Rhys’ thigh and brushed upwards, tracing his fingers towards where they both wanted them to be. “Why’s that, princess?”

Rhys’ cheeks were flushing pink again. “Because… I want you.” Jack was so close to him now, he watched the subtle details of Rhys’ face – his long brown eyelashes, his pink lips moving as he spoke, the thin black metal outlining the blue iris of his ECHO-eye. Rhys’ voice came out sounding desperate yet hesitant. “I want to hear your voice. I want to feel your hands on me.” His eyes were locked on the hand touching his own warm thigh, the long, dark fingers spread across his pale skin. Rhys almost put his own hand out on top of it, but refrained. “I want to taste you. I want your cock inside me, in my mouth or between my legs.”

Unable to prevent a smirk from crossing his face, Jack moved his hand again, snaking it under the folds of his unbuttoned shirt, feeling up towards Rhys’ hips and his side and then gently holding his slim waist with his huge hand. “Good answer.” His grip tightened, his fingers pressing into skin. He wanted to pull Rhys towards him, give him no hope of escaping. “If that’s what you want, I should give it to you, huh?”

Jack only had to blink once before he looked at Rhys again and their eyes met. Jack would never say it, but Rhys’ eyes were _so_ pretty, especially in the way they lit up like he was in some sort of vulgar love. “Please,” Rhys said through an exhale. His lips almost twitched into a frown. “Please give it to me, Jack. Please…” He licked his lips, quick, and his eyes looked down Jack’s body and up again. “Fuck me.”

Still smirking, Jack almost sighed with relief. The night was just about to take a really boring turn, but Rhys completely redeemed himself with this. It was a close call. He was so pleased with the kid that he wanted to lean in and kiss him – just a kiss and nothing more, which, for the record, was rare from him. 

But right then, Jack remembered. “Oh… shit.” He could actually feel his stomach drop. He stepped away from Rhys and clenched his fists, groaning again, “God frickin’ damn it!”

Rhys’ eyebrows raised in alarm. He straightened in his seat, watching blankly as Jack paced and stomped around in anger. “What? What’s wrong?” He’d seen Jack angry before, but not usually without context.

Jack could feel the frustration spilling over. He stood in front of the window of his office and glowered out into the blackness of space. He spoke through his teeth and answered under his breath. “I forgot to take my goddamn pill!” 

Rhys was understandably confused. “Huh?” he stammered, and then, “What pill?”

When Jack felt his own cheeks flushing slightly, his internalized frustration only increased. “The… the frickin’ boner pill.” Jack looked at Rhys to get a read on his opinion even though he wasn’t exactly keen to know it. Rhys’ expression was still perplexed. Jack gestured a shrug, trying to explain. “It gets my dick up?”

Realization wiped over Rhys’ face, and then he raised an eyebrow. “What? You have to… you have to take one of those?” Jack turned around again and didn’t answer. Rhys’ voice turned soft and sad. “Do you not like me? Am I not pretty enough, or am I doing something wrong?” 

Jack turned around and saw the ashamed, apologetic look on Rhys’ face, and he could feel his own heart sink. He sighed, mostly at himself. “No, cupcake. Of course not.” He hoped the conversation would end there, but no luck.

Rhys was pouting, and his big eyes were looking up at Jack. The dejection on his face and sadness in his eyes were reminiscent of some small animal Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on. Obviously Rhys was not convinced. As pathetic as it was, the poor kid looked like he was going to cry. 

Shaking his head gently, Jack walked back over to Rhys, who was still seated on the desk. He reached out and ran his hands through Rhys’ hair, trying to relax him with the gentle motions. “Aw, sweetheart,” he said sweetly, “Listen to me. I promise, you’re _really_ pretty, and you do everything right. Mostly.” 

Rhys was relieved to hear this, and all of his shame melted away. He relaxed his head towards Jack’s touch, making it clear that he liked it. His cock remained perked up between his legs. Jack tried his best not to look down. 

It made sense that this situation warranted an explanation, even though Jack wasn’t in the mood to give one. “I just, uh… I have trouble, so I need it. It’s a condition, you know?” Rhys turned his eyes up to meet Jack’s, waiting patiently for more. Jack sighed. “I’m older than you, alright? Don’t ask by how much. And if you already know, pretend that you don’t.”

Rhys smiled and reached his hand out to gingerly touch Jack’s arm, moving towards him slowly so he wouldn’t flinch away. “Okay. I understand.” 

The reassuring affection in Rhys’ soft voice, touch, and smile left a taste in Jack’s mouth that he feared might give him a cavity. Jack turned his eyes away and didn’t speak until Rhys took his hand down. “Listen, I don’t like talking about it. Just stay put, I’ll go take one, and, uh… I’ll put something on TV for thirty minutes until it does its job. Alright?” 

A smirk crossed Rhys’ face. He was up to something – some idea came into his mind, and knowing him, it was probably a bad one. “No, don’t take the pill. Let’s see if I can get you there on my own.” He knew Jack would instantly reject this so he cocked his head, smiled sweetly, and said, “Please?”

Rhys must have thought this to be easier than it was. Jack really did have a lot of trouble getting it up, and taking the pill seemed like the better option overall, since, despite how long it took, the results were guaranteed. It had been years since Jack had gotten hard all on his own. The pills worked so well that he didn’t even think he had the patience to endure vanilla stimulation or whatever Rhys was thinking about doing. Not to mention, if Rhys was unsuccessful, Jack would feel like shit, and he really wasn’t up for being humiliated. 

Jack glanced at his wristwatch. He still had a lot of free time left, and in all honesty, he was curious to see what Rhys had in mind. He sighed to pretend he wasn’t mildly excited about this. “Alright. I’ll give you a shot at it, because I’m in a good mood today. You’re welcome.” Rhys seemed pleased, and smiled at him. Jack looked him over and offered some ideas of his own. “Does that arm of yours do anything sexy?”

The smile on Rhys’ face flashed away and was replaced with confusion. He looked at his cybernetic arm, releasing the grip on the table and elevating it so they could both see. Rhys raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Uhh. Can you give me an example of something sexy my arm would do?” he asked politely.

Jack shrugged. “I dunno. Does it vibrate?” Jack felt that if Rhys needed an example, the answer was probably no. Jack looked the arm over. He admired the Hyperion yellow paint on the metal – his favorite color.

Rhys’ lips parted for a moment, at a loss for what to say. “Why would it do that? Why would I _ever_ need that function?” Rhys’ sudden lack of eagerness was strike one. His condescending tone was strike two.

Jack scoffed. “To stick your finger up my ass and massage my prostate. Duh.” Rhys grimaced slightly in response instead of speaking at all. “Whatever. I’ll have to get you a new arm. That thing is basically useless.”

“Hey…” Rhys pouted. He seemed genuinely hurt and offended. “I spent a lot of hard-earned money for this. It’s _not_ useless.” Rhys stood from his seat for the first time in a while. The bottom of his untucked dress shirt hung down just far enough to cover the small of his back, so his ass was still in full view as he moved a short distance away to retrieve something.

Jack keenly watched him walk away, but pretended like he was uninterested. He took a seat in his leather chair, slumping down into it with a sigh. “Shoulda waited until you picked up a sugar daddy like me before spending your hard-earned cash on major surgery. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?” Rhys was busy and didn’t answer. “How much did it cost you?”

Rhys found what he was looking for and returned. “I don’t actually know. Vaughn did some of the paperwork.” He was smiling again. “ _All_ of the paperwork.” Jack’s uninterested expression said it all, and Rhys reacted by losing the grin again. 

Jack pretended not to be curious about what Rhys was hiding in his hands. “Remarkably, small talk isn’t getting my dick hard. I’m getting bored. Try something else.” He decided that unbuttoning, unzipping, and removing his pants was the next step, so he took initiative before Rhys had the chance to order him to do it.

“Just be patient,” Rhys encouraged him, barely able to stop from rolling his eyes. There was an endearingly teasing glint in his eyes when he smiled at Jack. ”If you weren’t so old and didn’t need help getting your dick up, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and made a face at him. “Don’t push your luck, kid.” He shifted in his seat. Though his pants were off, he kept his shoes and socks on so that if they were standing Rhys wouldn’t appear taller than him. Jack’s bottom half was only clothed with baggy white underwear, and he spread his legs unromantically to air out his balls.

As Jack glowered, his eyes must have been lingering on Rhys’ closed hands, because Rhys finally revealed what he was holding. In one hand was a black, plastic prostate massager – a little over four inches long, thick at the top, thumb-shaped, with two flared arms at the bottom curling in opposite directions. In the other was a small tube of lubricant and a simple blue rubber cock ring. Rhys presented them to Jack with a movie star grin on his face, like he was a pretty girl in a sequin dress revealing a prize won on a game show.

But Jack was far from impressed. “For god’s sake – _really_? Out of everything, you picked _those_ out?” It pleased Jack to watch Rhys’ big smile slowly fade as he kept on talking. “Those are garbage, cupcake, they should have been thrown away years ago. I have better ones, more expensive ones.” Now that Rhys was nearly frowning, Jack almost laughed. “From the way you dress up so well, I didn’t think your taste would be so cheap.” 

Once again, Rhys wasn’t smiling any more. With this constant cycle of smiling and pouting, his face was probably starting to hurt. He closed his fingers around the toys and gestured to the desk behind him. “Lay down on the desk,” he directed.

Now it was Jack’s turn to lose a smile. “Excuse me?” Rhys really should have known better than to use that tone with him.

Instead of apologizing like he should have, a stupid grin was on his face again. “It’s more comfortable than it looks. As someone who spends a lot of time bent over it, I’m kind of an expert, so trust me.” Jack didn’t move from his position in his chair. Rhys sighed. “Yeah, it’d be better on a mattress, but you refuse to let me into your actual bedroom, so that’s not going to happen.”

Jack shook his head. “Forget it. That’s not happening.” It had been a long time since anyone had gotten the privilege of sleeping in Jack’s bed. Sleeping alone really sucked, and it did bother Jack almost every night, but nobody was ever good enough, and Jack would never compromise his dignity for someone he didn’t deeply care for. Maybe Rhys would get to that level some day, but he wasn’t there today.

Thankfully, Rhys didn’t press for more of an explanation this time. “Okay. Then, uh… lay down on the desk, _please_?” He cocked his head for added effect, but Jack was already up and out of his seat because he was at the ass end of his patience.

Once Jack was seated on the desk, he started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, starting from the top. He took great effort not to appear clumsy with it because he didn’t want Rhys to get the impression that he was flustered. Rhys stepped over, placing the toys to the side, and helped Jack with the shirt, starting at the bottom and progressing until they met halfway, fingers touching just for a brief half-second.

Instead of sliding the shirt off his arms, he kept it on despite it being fully unbuttoned now, just like Rhys’ shirt was. Rhys moved his hands to Jack’s shoulders and gently urged him down – using as little force as he could so Jack wouldn’t snap at him – until Jack was flat on his back. As Rhys took his place standing between Jack’s legs, he let his organic hand trace from Jack’s chest, down his soft stomach, and towards his crotch, brushing Jack’s pubes with his fingertips before turning and running his touch up the inside of one of Jack’s thighs. 

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, bored. He rested both hands on his stomach so they rose and fell with his breathing. “If you’re trying to put me to sleep, you’re doing a bang-up job.” He thought about yawning for extra measure but figured that’d be taking it too far.

Rhys ignored the discouragement outright. From the sound of it, he was lubing up the tip of the toy and slicking a finger up with the lubricant as well. “I’m going to put this in, okay? Just to get you started. Then I’ll use my fingers.” He traced the tip of his finger in a circle around Jack’s hole, going only as deep as Jack’s spread legs allowed him without pressing inside.

When Rhys moved his hand away, Jack resisted the urge to grab him by the wrist and pull him back. “Do you think I’m a girl? Think I’ll get wet for you because you stick your fingers up in me?” Even though the questions were hypothetical, it was annoying that Rhys didn’t immediately respond or apologize. “You really are clueless.” 

Standing between Jack’s legs, Rhys got up on his toes and leaned forward so Jack would look him in the eyes, then held up the toy and waved at him with it, still beaming. “It’ll work. Trust me!” Jack couldn’t tell if this was annoying or endearing and just waited impatiently for Rhys to get to business.

The cheap, thin plastic slid in easily. It was barely intrusive, and Jack wasn’t even sure it was in the right place – until Rhys pushed down on the base, sending the finger-shaped obtrusion upwards, putting light pressure right on the edge of Jack’s prostate. Jack instantly exhaled, for it was a sensation he was familiar with but never used to, and so Rhys knew he’d found the right spot.

Rhys’ metal arm was on Jack’s thigh, the cold metal of his fingers and hand chilled against warm skin. Rhys propped Jack’s leg up and around his own waist, helping Jack to spread himself and receive the toy. “Tighten up around it,” he urged, looking up to Jack’s face to gauge his expression.

Of course, Jack’s expression turned into a sneer. “Why?” He scoffed, and then, “Don’t tell me what to do.” He shifted his hips to receive the toy, wanting it deeper, wanting _more_.

Annoyingly, Rhys continued to smile instead of issue an apology. “That’s how it works,” he explained. “You have to contract your insides and it’ll push up against your prostate. Come on, give it a try.”

When Jack reluctantly followed through, he was glad he did. It felt amazing. A wave of bright pleasure surged through him instantaneously. He held his breath to keep from gasping. “How the hell do you know all this, anyway?” It was meant to be condescending but even so, it was a question he didn’t want to know the answer to.

Regardless of who he’d done this with in the past, Rhys didn’t answer. Instead he slid a finger inside, underneath the head of the toy, stretching his tightened hole further and adding more pressure to Jack’s prostate. “You should do this regularly. It has health benefits, especially for a man your age.” He added the next finger, increasing the flat pressure upwards.

The double penetration shut Jack up immediately but the snide comment got him fired up again. “Shut the hell up, Rhys,” he muttered, barely able to get the words out.

The warmth of the wet fingers sufficed, so Rhys pulled out the plastic massager. With the fingers inside, Rhys started to stroke Jack’s prostate with gentle motions, putting pressure as he coaxed Jack further to the edge. The direct stimulation was almost too much to handle. Jack almost felt like he would come just from being touched, if there was enough pressure applied to the exact right spot, but Rhys must have been holding back. 

Jack hadn’t even noticed that his cock was hard until he brought a hand down to touch it and relieve some pressure. For a second, he let himself feel amazed. Rhys had really done it, without even having to use the cock ring, and Jack was able to get up without the help of medication. He felt a surge of self-confidence, something he thrived off. Despite Rhys’ stupid jokes, it seemed that Jack wasn’t decrepit - not yet, at least. 

Even better was that Rhys hadn’t said “I told you so” even once. He was more focused on pleasuring Jack, which was cute. The tone of Rhys’ voice was telling that he was pleased with the results. “Can you come from this?” he wondered. The fingers outside Jack’s hole were curled down and under the base of his ass.

In all honestly, Jack could have nutted buckets all over himself and Rhys right now, but he closed his eyes and held his breath and distracted himself and lied, “Are you kidding me? Of course not.” He stroked himself lightly, barely even pumping, wanting more and denying Rhys the satisfaction of getting him to come from something so simple. He let out a deep exhale, almost moaning as Rhys continued coaxing him ahead. “Lube up your dick and let’s get this party started,” he forced out.

Rhys kept his fingers inside to stretch Jack’s hole upwards and open. With his other hand, he positioned his dick outside of Jack’s entrance, the cold metal sensation probably not very pleasant against the skin of his cock. He placed the tip inside and then removed his fingers, afterwards proceeding to slide himself most of the way in, much to Jack’s delight.

Rhys was moving slowly, as if trying to caress Jack open, getting his hole loose and used before staring a rhythm of any kind. “Is that good?” he asked Jack with a voice hot and sweet. “Do you like this?”

“It’s fine,” Jack admitted begrudgingly, then changed his tone. “Don’t you dare come inside me.” Jack hated cleaning up the mess. Besides, Rhys was already experiencing too much dominance, and if he came inside Jack, it would be like marking his territory - Jack didn’t want all this power to go to Rhys’ head. It was for the best, really.

Slick sounds of sex increased in intensity as Rhys picked up his speed. “Okay,” he affirmed. He was becoming short of breath. His hands were on Jack’s hips and his grip was increasingly growing more grabby, desperate for contact, but Jack let this one slide.

Jack was taking all of it – Rhys’ wasn’t particularly big, but he knew how to move and he filled Jack up well. It wasn’t long before Jack could feel his control slipping. Hot pleasure was surging through his heart, bright and glowing behind his eyes. “I changed my mind,” he said quickly, his hands almost shaking, “Finish inside me, Rhys. Do it now.” He was frantic; the idea of finishing before Rhys did left a sour taste in his mouth, but he needed release so badly.

Hearing Jack ask for it was enough to send Rhys over the edge, but not before Jack came all over his own stomach. Rhys came afterwards, with a soft wine, and he was so deep inside of Jack that only a small drop slid outside of Jack’s hole, the rest of his load remained snugly deep inside Jack’s ass, a warm and wet squelching mess. 

Before Jack could even sit up straight, Rhys was pulled out and standing in front of him, raising an eyebrow condescendingly and holding out some tissues he’d gotten from nearby. “I _told_ you I could do it,” he sang.

Jack snatched the tissues from him and wiped off the come on his stomach and soft black hairs trailing down to his pubes. “Oh, cut it out,” he scoffed as he caught his breath. “Don’t give me that ‘I-told-you-so’ tone, Rhysie. You know I hate that.” He balled up the wet and soggy tissue and tossed it to the waste bin; it landed on the ground nearby. 

This time, Rhys’ cute smile didn’t fade away. Instead he stepped closer to the side of the desk, leaned over, and placed his lips onto Jack’s, kissing him gently but confidently, raising his hand to Jack’s face to keep as close as he could. And for once, Jack couldn’t think of any good reason not to kiss him back.


End file.
